Fifty years ago, give-or-take, our family car was rear-ended by a Pontiac. Three of my classmates were with me, on our way to play in church on a Sunday morning. I was driving the nearly new station wagon, which had “cruise control,” a new option at the time. I had it set on 55 mph. We were in an area called, “Twin Hills,” with terrain to match. All was well, until the second of the hills.
It felt like the rear end of the car exploded. We were going 80-plus mph in a second. I braked hard, but the brakes hardly responded. Later I learned that the rear brake lines were crimped in the collision. Incidentally, the big Chrysler wagon ended up looking like a humpback whale. After I managed to pull off the road and stop, I grabbed the door handle and said something like, “I don’t know if whoever was driving that car is dead, but in a few minutes he will be.” I was furious. I still remember the accident after all these years, partly because I still have scars from it in my cervical spine.
My friend, Rob, put his hand on my shoulder and told me to stay put. “You’re in shock, Mark, don’t do anything you’ll regret.” After a minute or so, I was able to calm down. Rob and I assessed the situation. Thankfully, there were no serious injuries to us humans, although a couple of our brass instruments were severely damaged. Their fate is another story. Suffice it to say we did not make it to church that morning.
A nearby homeowner must have reported the accident, because in a short time, police officers were on the scene. The driver of the other car and his passenger were knocked unconscious, but they would survive. A police officer took my statement and told me that he could tell by the damage to both cars that the Pontiac was going well over 100 mph. Later the driver claimed I pulled out in front of him, but that didn’t happen. He simply drove over the crest of the hill too fast to react, and Newton’s laws took over.
My takeaway from this incident is that we need friends, or at least one trusted friend. If Rob hadn’t talked me out of my murderous rage, my entire life would have been different. We went on to have more adventures, many involving music, and have remained in touch, if sporadically, to this day. I’m grateful for his presence at a pivotal moment, and that he never had to visit me in prison.
We all survived. But what happens before and after surviving matters more than merely living to tell about it. I concluded that there must be a purpose to my life beyond surviving what could have been a fatal car crash and graduating from High School. Rob and I went on to successful careers and wonderful families. I was privileged to be a teacher and musician for four decades. Rob had a great career as a professional in the financial sector.
My father-in-law once told me that a man ought to consider himself fortunate if he could count his friends on one hand. I think this is true. Some people try to collect friends like knick-knacks, but others only count true friends, like those who manage to keep you out of jail, or at least headed in the right direction. Friends like these add incalculable value to our lives. C.S. Lewis wrote, “Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that gives value to survival.”
MurrayWorks 